June 30, 2011

Assistance for Our Better Angels

And by "better angels," I mean, of course, the ladies. First, I encourage you to help a human lady if you can. Dr. Socks has some medical bills which are undoubtedly overwhelming. I have no means of even trying to pay any of my own medical bills. I haven't looked at the bills from my latest hospital stay, although I've kept the envelopes (just in case curiosity overcomes me in an odd moment). It's impossible for me to pay even a small fraction of them (no money, can't pay! simple how that works), so there's no point in contemplating the numbers. But based on the bills from my first hospital stay two years ago, I assume the total to date is well north of $60,000. Note that I didn't have surgery either time; the most complex procedures, which aren't complex at all, were blood transfusions and an endoscopy. Mind-boggling shit is what that is. Anyway, I hope you can help Violet.

I'm mightily distracted right now by the two lovely feline ladies who permit me to live with them. I did take in Sasha a few weeks ago. In addition to the fact that she's meltingly adorable and loving, I knew I had to get her away from my neighbor, who explicitly acknowledged that she had absolutely no interest in Sasha other than as a mouser (she'd had one mouse before getting Sasha -- and none since -- and she probably brought that one in herself when moving boxes from the garage into her apartment, as she also acknowledges). My neighbor was never home and barely noticed Sasha when she was. Sasha and I decided she deserved much better.

Since my neighbor had gotten Sasha at a shelter, we assumed Sasha had been spayed. My neighbor said she definitely had been. Apparently, um, not, for Sasha has been in heat for the last four days. As I remarked to a friend, and as my vet confirmed on the phone yesterday, the signs are THWACKINGLY OBVIOUS. They are also extraordinarily LOUD. The yowling ... oy. Well, hate the yowling and not the yowler and so forth. Besides, Sasha is far, far too sweet to get mad at, even for a moment. But oh my God, the yowling... (And my neighbor had had Sasha for about four years. How this thwackingly obvious fact escaped her, for the same symptoms must have announced themselves -- LOUDLY -- before, is only further testimony to people's capacity to avoid head-bashingly unmistakable facts they are determined to ignore. As my vet remarked when I expressed my shock that this must have gone on for several years: "People have an amazing capacity to ignore such things when they want to.")

Next week, Sasha goes in for surgery. After consultation with the vet, I conclude that's the safest and surest way to make certain everything is taken care of properly. (Blood tests are often inconclusive, so aren't necessarily helpful at all.) Even if she was spayed, it's not uncommon for some ovarian tissue to be left behind. The surgery itself will cost $350.00; add in incidentals (and let's assume, please Goddess, there are no complications at all), and we're talking in the neighborhood of $400.00.

And then there is the incredibly sweet Wendy. I'm not going to recite all the details; I'm too upset by it at the moment. The news is not good. (Background here.) She'll have a cortisone shot tomorrow. If the problem is an inflammatory bowel one alone, that should help. If it doesn't, or only helps for a little while, well... I've accepted now that we've probably entered the final stretch for Wendy. I've seen the same general pattern (although the particular causes varied) with six other cats during my lifetime. I'm overly familiar with it. I sense we probably have two to four months remaining -- perhaps more or less depending on particulars. It's possible that the cortisone will have a tremendously revivifying effect, which would certainly change the prognosis for the better. Let's keep our fingers crossed for that. Otherwise...

Wendy's trip to the vet tomorrow will cost around $100.00, perhaps more if the vet decides she needs to be hydrated (a distinct possibility) or requires additional procedures. I've just paid the July rent. With the other monthly bills requiring payment (the bare minimum, as has been the case for years now), I'm looking at rapidly dwindling financial resources. Dwindling toward the point of the big zero.

So once again, I must extend the begging cup. I do have a number of articles lined up for the near future. Once I'm able to focus a bit more on them (I hope this weekend), I'll start preparing them for publication. But I am deeply saddened by Wendy's situation. I've readied myself as much as I can for what may come, but that's not being ready at all. She's so, so sweet, and such a wonderful presence in our lives. Oh, damn. Now I'm crying. God damn it all to hell.

All right, I'll have to leave this for now. Bless you for listening, and bless you if you can help. I'm more grateful than I can say.